Kiss like a cannon
by C.Watherston
Summary: 'The sound of a kiss is not so loud as that of a cannon, but it's echo lasts a great deal longer' -O.W Holmes.
1. BTI

B.T.I

That was when it began. BTI; Before The Incident. Well, not really, it was more like _During _The Incident, because it had been right there. In the midst of the insanity and the ringing in their ears because of the explosion in the stranger's house and the blood that coated Martin's broken leg.

Cary had listened dumbly to Joe's plan, his voice fast and strong and confident for the first time in his life. All he could think was that they might actually _die _down here, trying to rescue this stupid girl that Joe had a stupid crush on and because he was Joe-freakin'-Lamb he was willing to bet his life on getting her out. And they'd followed him. The others more reluctantly than Cary. Cary had stood first, Cary had stuck his neck out the furthest because Cary Adams would follow Joseph Lamb into Hell, unquestioning and at a flat sprint.

Staring at the other boy, for the first time Cary let his less-than-appropriate thoughts for his best friend run unrestrained. It killed him inside, these thoughts; thirteen year old boys were _not _supposed to think about their _very male _friends like this.

He drank in that amazing steel blue of his eyes, the way they burned, the sheen of his lips and the flash of his teeth as he spoke quickly in that voice that never failed to lull Cary to sleep when they pulled monster-movie all-nighters.

"Cary? Did you hear me?" Joe demanded breathlessly.

Gritting his teeth, Cary nodded quickly. Joe's face was flushed with terror and determination in the strange light that the sparkler in his hand and the sheen from the Visitor's cavern made. Joe made to stand and run, but Cary suddenly grabbed his arm, pulling him back down behind their outcrop.

"Cary, _what_? I've got to get to Alice-"

"I know, I know, b-but I gotta tell you something, okay?"

"It can wait-"

"No!-" the blonde clutched his arm almost painfully.

"-No, i-if, well-look, if we both get out of this alive, Joe, you gotta promise me that you'll forget all about this because it is really, really bad and-"

"Spit it out, Cary, it's okay"

Trust Joe to be reassuring when he was half out of his mind with terror and worry and a million other emotions too completely intense to name, not in the least was something like confidence. Trust Joe to look at Cary with those wide, gentle eyes and clasp his own unsteady hand over Cary's. He squeezed his smaller friend's hand, still holding onto his arm as if for dear life. Cary inhaled sharply.

"Shit, Joe, it's not okay. It's really not, but, but we could die and I-I just can't anymore" with this desperate sort of confession blurted out, Cary rushed forward and kissed Joe solidly on the lips. Just as quickly, he withdrew. He'd split the corner of his lip against the biting metal of his braces he'd kissed the other boy so hard, but at that moment he didn't give a damn. Even if he died, he'd own Joe Lamb's first kiss. He could damn well die the happiest, sickest man on earth.

For a moment, Cary thought he must have died already without realising it, or at least somehow have fallen asleep because Joe was reaching forward and roughly erasing the crimson bubble in the corner of his mouth with his thumb before surging forward and _kissing him again! _Cary gasped and suddenly he could _taste _Joe against his tongue. His head spun when the warm, soft, insistent mouth was gone again and Joe leaned back, apparently surveying his work.

"This conversation isn't over" he ordered, all business again.

"Don't forget!" with that he was gone, kicking up the dust under his scrambling Converses. For a heartbeat, Cary couldn't move. He was utterly frozen with shock and anticipation and pure, unadulterated joy because Joe-freaking-Lamb had _kissed him! _He wasn't sick, he wasn't a freak. He was just a boy who liked-Hell, who was he kidding? He was two steps from falling in _love _with-another boy.

There was a roar that shook the stones around Cary, ripping cloud 9 out from under his feet and dumping him back here, where the air smelt like heat and electricity and blood and dirt. Shaking himself, Cary threw himself into the distraction, connecting fuses in a way he never would have before. The difference was that Joe had _kissed him back _and didn't want to just forget about it;_ "This conversation isn't over!" _he'd said.

Cary couldn't be content with just dying with Joe's first kiss. He wanted to be his second, his third and his last. And he couldn't do that if he was dead.

It seemed that fate was out to threaten his chances of a long life by Joe Lamb's side; his lighter, the one he'd stolen from his old man when he was three and never given it back, wouldn't light. It had never not lit on the first go, not once. After the second attempt, his fingers were shaking so badly he knew why the damn thing wasn't catching.

_Jesus Christ, it's Joe, it's JOE! Please light! Pleasepleasepleaseplease-_

Then it did.

Then the creature was behind him, it's long, thundering lope vibrating against Cary's heels as he ran like he'd never done before. Careening into another tunnel, he had never been more happy to almost run slap-bang into Alice Dainard before in his life. Because Alice meant Joe and Joe was _there, _looking at him, beautiful and alive.

"What are you doing here? I told you to leave!" he yelled, furious with worry and Cary's heart lurched because that tang of sweat and dirt and smoke and something sweeter that he would forever associate with the sweaty, pale boy before him was still against his lips, tattooed there.

So they'd run and eventually they'd even survived, even though that possibility looked pretty far-fetched for a while there.

Cary often thought about the moment they stood backed against the wall and the way Joe had spread-eagled himself in front of him and Alice, a willing sacrifice for the creature roaring before them, saliva dripping from its maw. Maybe it was his imagination, some phantom-sensation supplied to him by his terror-addled mind, but had Joe really tightened a hand across Cary's ribs, a fist forming in his torn t-shirt, like he never wanted to let him go?

Standing in the middle of the street, looking up, Cary didn't even remember saying anything although in retrospect he might of said _holy shit _as he looked up at the Visitor's ship. He'd walked forward without even really meaning to, his eyes on the spectacle above him. For a moment he dropped his eyes to look at Joe and to his shocked elation, Joe's left hand was stretched back behind himself, reaching for Cary. Their eyes met over Joe's shoulder as Cary's own hand hesitantly met the dark-haired boy's. Before Cary had a chance to reconsider, Joe's fingers were tightly wrapped in his.

And that made everything okay.


	2. Cold out tonight

Cold out tonight

**AN: A sequel of sorts to 'B.T.I' **

_Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. _

Thirteen-year-old Joseph Lamb groaned into his pillow, allowing only one eye to brave the darkness out of his warm cacoon to peek out at his bedside alarm. It was 3:20 in the morning and no sane teenager should be awake at this hour. Burying his face back in the pillow, Joe silently begged for this to be a bad dream.

_Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. _

Nope. Real then.

He threw back his covers, hissing when his feet hit the cold floor, and stumbled across the clutter and chaos that made this space so uniquely his. He made it to his window without any grievous injury and squinted out of the glass, not quite brave enough to let in the late autumn chill inside. A pair of wide blue eyes looked back at him pleadingly.

"Dammit Cary" he cursed as he swung open the window, gasping shallowly at the blast of frigid air rushing into the toasty warmth of his room.

"S-s-s-sorry, J-Joe. I d-d-didn't know wh-where else t-t-to g-go" Cary Adams shivered helplessly, needing Joe's help the clamber as silently as he could in through the window. He stood behind the taller boy, shuddering with the cold, as he shut the window. Turning around, he found Cary standing mere inches from him, so bitterly cold he didn't even notice he was in Joe's personal space.

"Jesus. What, d'they kick you out again?" Joe asked, moving past him to grab a blanket from the top of his bed and throw it around his friend's shoulders. He kept his hands on Cary's small arms, rushing them up and down in a desperate attempt to circulate blood.

"N-nah. J-J-Jessie told me to leave c-coz d-d-dad was looking for a p-punching bag. She's got mum and H-Hayley d-downstairs in the b-b-basement but I wasn't f-fast enough" Cary explained brokenly.

Joe bit his lip hard. He hated that Cary's family; him, his parents and his two sisters, one a year older, the other just three, was so messed up. The guy was an uncertified pyromaniac for a reason. In a poetic sort of way, he watched things burn because that's what he was _used _to seeing; his family burning in the haze of Peter Adams' drunken hatred. Ever since The Incident Cary had been increasingly desperate to escape his family. The Incident had messed with all of them on some level; Charles had even tried to make a movie about it, a documentary, but they couldn't do it. It was too soon, too raw. Hell, Martin was still limping after having metal plates put in on his shattered shin bone. Their hearing was still recovering after the bomb blast that had left their bespectacled friend with a compound fracture.

"Do you want me to call Dad?" Joe offered, eyes almost silver in the light of the full autumn moon outside. Cary shrugged.

"Neighbours called it in already" he said offhandedly, almost tiredly and Joe nodded.

"Okay. Come give me a hand to get the mattress. Dad's been on a 12-hour-shift, he'll sleep like the dead"

He made for the door, sweeping his foot to clear a path. Only when he realised that the other boy wasn't following did he stop and turn back, puzzled.

Cary was standing, not shivering as badly anymore with Joe's blanket wrapped around his shoulders, exactly where Joe had left him. He chewed on his bottom lip, metal flashing in the half-light. His braces were due off any day now and, boy, was he dying for it to hurry up and happen.

"Are you okay, Cary?"

The smaller boy swallowed and moistened his lips uncertainly.

"Uh, c-can I...never mind" he made to follow Joe out the door but was stopped by Joe's hand carefully on his shoulder.

"Do...d'ya just wanna sleep with me?"

Cary went as red as Joe and both of them decided silently that to even try and correct the unmeaning innuendo would be far too embarrassing. He nodded quickly, shyly, and let Joe lead him to the bed. He kicked off his shoes and threw his jumper on Joe's desk, pointedly not looking at the boy he could hear settling under the covers behind him, rearranging the blanket that had been around Cary's shoulders.

Still without looking at him, Cary slid under the covers. Joe hissed and Cary flinched.

"Sorry, I'll just-" he shuffled over as if to get out of the bed again, but Joe grabbed his arm.

"It's okay. You're cold, s'all" he explained quietly. Their eyes finally met and for a moment they seemed to consider one another carefully, almost warily. In unison, their memories flashed back to the bloody, smoky, desperate kiss they'd shared in the Visitor's cavern. They'd never spoken about it. Not once. There'd been...moments. Indecipherable looks they'd shot one another without really meaning to, but they'd never voiced any of the desperate emotions lingering in their eyes.

So Joe hesitated before he curved the arm on Cary's elbow around to the small of his back and pulled him a little closer. Even though it was Cary who'd kissed him first and he'd kissed him back because...well, at the time he really had no idea why. He'd just wanted to and with his life hanging in the balance, there didn't seem any reason to hold back. Things had gotten weirder ever since then. There were the random thoughts during class (_I wonder what Cary's thinking about?, I wish Cary was here, what class is Cary in right now? _ Plus, in the case of this latter question, Joe knew. He _knew_ Cary's timetable). There was the way he'd catch himself outright staring at Cary, whether it was in the cafeteria, in PE, when they were walking to the bus or to the store. Just watching him laugh or frown or tease Martin or fail miserably at flirting with girls. Of course, the fact that watching Cary flirt ineptly with those girls made Joe feel like he wanted to tear his insides out probably belonged on the list of strange behaviours too.

Then there were the dreams. He tensed at the thought. _Fuck. _Suddenly sharing his bed with Cary didn't seem like such a grand idea anymore.

"Joe?-" Cary muttered. He was half-asleep, lulled by the Joe's easy breathing and the warmth of the bed.

"-you 'kay?"

Joe swallowed hard and thought about what he'd said in the cavern.

"Uhh..."

Blinking heavily, Cary pushed himself up, shifting but not enough to dislodge Joe's arm which, he realised with a deep blush, was actually around Cary's waist. Or hips. Or whatever it was that boys had because did boys have waists? Shit...

"Sumthin' tha-mattr?" he slurred tiredly and Joe's heart melted. It was the only way he could describe the feeling of warm, soothing ooze spreading across his chest at the way Cary blinked at him, messy haired and sleepy-eyed like a child.

"No, it's fine. Go to sleep, Cary"

He grunted, burrowing into the blankets like a mole.

"D'n'mind'if-I-do"

Joe chuckled and wriggled closer to Cary, curving himself around the shorter boy's form before he could stop himself. He froze when he realised what he'd done and then basked in that weird, oozing feeling when Cary made a soft, contented little sound deep in the back of his throat.

Morning, for Joe at least, came far too quickly. He awoke first, to the sound of his alarm clock blaring out the rock channel. He fumbled for it blearily, struggling with the entanglement of arms and legs that couldn't have all belonged to him. Blinking, he turned his head and found Cary's mess of blonde hair curled into his chest, small nonsense sounds coming from him. Without his really meaning to, his hand crept into the air and gently swept the tangled mop of blonde away from Cary's face. The touch of Joe's warm hand caused Cary to blink awake. For a moment he stared at Joe blankly.

"Hey" Joe's gruff morning voice broke the quiet.

"Shit" said Cary, leaping up and throwing himself to his feet. Joe sat up quickly, feeling immediately uneasy.

"Shit-" Cary repeated, dragging his hands through his hair.

"-We, I, shouldna done that. This is bad, this is really-"

"Man, nothing happened, okay-"Joe tried to placate his friend, flicking the covers back and ignoring the cold floor on his bare feet.

"Well it wouldn't, would it? Because I'm not-_we're_ not-"

"Then what are we?" and Joe's voice was quiet, almost pleading. Cary stared at him.

"I gotta go"


	3. Braces

Braces 

"Do you have any idea how glad I am that you've got your braces off?" Joe chuckled suddenly, between kisses. Dazed, Cary stared across at him.

"Huh?" he enquired, rendered inarticulate.

Joe grinned, loving that he could switch off Cary's motor mouth with just a touch. Pulling the smaller boy closer, he dragged his heated lips low across Cary's jaw and murmured into the warm skin just below his ear. Cary barely heard him over the roar of his super-heated blood booming from his heart, which had leapt into his throat at Joe's proximity, at the amazing things he could do with his arms folded around Cary, his lips against his throat.

"Can you imagine doing this with your braces on?" he asked, the warm sound of his humour vibrating across his chest and finding a niche in Cary's heart. He thought about it for a second and then snorted.

"That'd be messy" he said.

Joe laughed properly and flipped over. They wrestled contentedly in the warm, sweet grass, grinning widely at each other. Finally, Joe's extra weight came into play and he pinned Cary beneath him, laughing breathlessly at the mussed hair of the boy below him.

Then Cary wriggled, trying to free himself.

They both froze. Joe swallowed, blood rushing into his cheeks. Quickly, he pushed himself up, the heels of his hands making dents in the grass either side of Cary's head, but he didn't even make it halfway. Cary grabbed him by the collar of his polo shirt with both hands and pulled him back down again, crashing their mouths together messily.

"Ouch" Joe muttered.

"Shit, sorry, I-" but Joe was wordlessly shaking his head and capturing Cary's lips again, swallowing his next words. They'd kissed hundreds of times the previous year, three years since they'd fought the Visitor together, but never, ever had they shared a kiss like this. It was slow and wet and messy and when Joe's tongue snuck out, sweeping along Cary's trapped bottom lip the smaller boy silently thought _screw it_ and opened his mouth to let him in. Joe thought in that strange, blazing moment that Cary tasted like Heaven but in retrospect it was probably Purgatory against his tongue; gun smoke and heat and sin and beauty and-

"Shit! Sh-shit, Cary-"

"Yeah, slow, slowing down...shit!" he added for emphasis as Joe withdrew with a desperate gasp.

Laughing in that heady, gasping way when one has no breath left in their lungs, Joe leaned his forehead against Cary's, drowning in the deep blue orbs and giving in completely to the pure, unadulterated feeling that wrapped around his heart and lungs and squeezed, making them dance and sing and stutter helplessly.

"Cary...?" Joe whispered. His eyes were closed, his deliciously swollen bottom lip caught between his wonderfully white, straight teeth. They opened slowly.

"Ye-yeah?"

"Are we crazy-do you think we're crazy?"

Cary shrugged, sitting up on his elbow and reaching out to fiddle with the collar of Joe's shirt with his other.

"I dunno. I guess we are a bit"

"If anyone found out..."

Darkness cut into their faces as their eyes met, and the light between them then felt like the only bit of brightness in the world.

"Yeah" Cary agreed softly, reluctantly.

"Won't always be like this though" Joe told him confidently. Cary smirked lopsidedly.

"Ya think?"

"Yeah"

"Okay then"

He leaned forward again and kissed him again, as softly and sweetly as the first time he'd done it, drunk on a bottle of bourbon by the fire on the hill above the train tracks. Only this time he tasted like the tang of fireworks and the smoothness of wood smoke.


	4. Summertime

Summertime 

"And _that _Joe Lamb, is why I love ya" Cary laughed before he realised what he said and froze, dead in the water. His fingers still trembling against the top button of his jeans, Joe stared back at him.

It was summer; in the dead of the hottest week on Ohio records. Lillian melted in the burning haze even in the middle of the night. It had gotten so hot that school had been called off and the main street was a ghost town.

Now normally, the inseparable boys and their usually exasperated femme fatale, spurred on by three film competition wins in the last four years, would have been taking extreme advantage of a situation that screamed _production value!_ But with temperatures spiking way above a hundred Fahrenheit, they'd instead retreated to wherever there was water or air conditioner.

Collapsed on top of his sheets in his boxers, seriously considering stripping even them, Joe had been watching his fan buzz in the soupy air. Then came the rat-a-tat-tat on his window. He'd sprang out of bed, regardless of the heat, immediately feeling better than he had all day. He'd yanked on a singlet, thanking his lucky stars that he'd decided to keep his shorts on, and opened the window.

Standing there with a sheen of sweat sticking his gorgeous blonde hair to his forehead, was Cary Adams.

"Hey babe" he'd whispered, which made Joe grin like a loon. They were long past the point where they were worried about being sick and disgusting because Cary happened to like guys and Joe was pretty on the fence about his sexuality. It was way whatever. As Charles had said; _it's the seventies, love whatever you want as long it's not war. _

"Hey. You wanna come in?"

Cary snorted.

"Hell _no. _It's like, a hundred on the nose, man-" his teeth had flashed cheekily as he snagged the collar of Joe's singlet with a single finger.

"-I want you...outside" he'd added after a second of watching the way Joe's blue eyes went almost navy at the suggestion heavy in his tones. Joe had smiled that lopsided half-smile of his that never once failed to drive Cary _in-freaking-sane. _

"You're crazy" he'd said affectionately, and Cary's heart had whooped in pleasure.

"Been said. Hurry up, I got the car"

With a small, incredulous laugh, Joe had ducked his head back in, shoving on the jeans he'd worn that day and leaving the singlet. Grabbing his shoes, he'd handed them out the window to Cary and slipped through after them. Cary had caught him by the waist and stood on his tiptoes to steal a breathless kiss.

"C'mon" he'd murmured against Joe's lips, sliding his hand into the back pocket of Joe's jeans. The taller boy's arm had wound around his shoulders lightly, aware that there was already sweat gathering in the small of his back.

Then they'd gotten into Cary's parent's beat up truck and rolled out of Joe's street as quietly as they could manage. Neither of them noticed the curtains on the Khaznic's place twitch as Charles rolled his eyes at his friends antics and ignored the stab of jealously.

Cary had driven Joe out to the reservoir, almost half-an-hour out. They'd pulled up on the bank and Cary had jumped out, aware that Joe was watching him with a slack jaw.

"Are you friggin' serious man? Can you read?" he'd pointed to the _No Swimming _signs all over the place. Cary opened his door for him with a shrug, leaning in the window.

"Live a little, boy scout" he'd smirked.

Joe blamed his current predicament entirely on that smirk. God _damn _Cary Adams' smirk. The smirk he'd given Joe as he stripped off his shirt, the one that had stayed plastered there as he kicked off his jeans and revealed he wasn't wearing a damn thing under them. Joe had sworn shakily, whipping around to face the other direction until he heard Cary splash into the water.

It wasn't that he didn't want to see Cary naked-holy shit, did he ever want to-but he was pretty sure he shouldn't. Turning around, Joe couldn't take his eyes off him; up to his waist in night-black water, the starlight glistening on his soaked torso, all those fine muscle lines from running track turning into rivets of cool water. Goosebumps rippled on his skin and there was a droplet of moon-silvered water caught on his nipple.

"You comin' in or what, boy scout?" Cary had enquired softly; the only chance he'd give Joe to back out. He always gave Joe one chance, when he'd tone down his intensity and offer Joe a second to stop his head from spinning and make a decision. It didn't matter whether it was his hand on Joe's zipper, his lighter at the fuse of some intricate explosion or the blueprint for some prank that would undoubtedly spiral way out of control.

Joe almost always said yes.

This time was no different. Except this time as he said _"Oh screw it" _and started to undo his jeans, Cary had laughed and said; _"And that, Joe Lamb, is why I love ya" _

Wide-eyed like a cornered deer, Cary was speaking in a hesitating, uncertain voice.

"I-I-I-I, ah, I'm-uhm-shit-hey, look, Joe-"

"Do'ya mean it? I mean-did you, just then, mean that?"

They stared at each other. Cary dropped Joe's curious, halting gaze and ran his hands across the surface of the water.

"Fuck...-" he muttered, to himself more than to Joe, and finally nodded at his feet. He steeled himself for Joe to freak out. After all, they'd been kissing for two years, sneaking clumsy, heated moments in the back of Joe's car, camping out and spending all night trying to figure out why the hell all their friends were getting girlfriends while the two of them were stealing kisses behind the bike sheds like elementary school kids. '_Love' _had never been part of the equation, not ever. They were different in a town that didn't like different. They were friends. They shared the blood and the terror of that night when the Visitor escaped Earth at last. Joe, Cary and Alice; the three of them sought each other out when things got tough. Cary had somehow gravitated into the bubble that Charles used to occupy in Joe's life.

The sound of material slithering against slick skin made Cary look up in surprise. Joe was shucking his jeans. Which was fine, except now he was steadily holding Cary's gaze as he pulled his singlet over his head.

Now, Cary wouldn't say he was an exhibitionist, exactly, but he didn't have a problem chucking his gym gear off and jumping in the shower, or stripping off his shirt when it got too hot. Joe, on the other hand, waited until the shower room was empty before he showered quickly and pulled a shirt on above the towel as he got changed. When they went swimming (legally), Joe wore trunks and an old shirt, so that by the end of summer he had a wicked t-shirt tan.

As Joe inhaled unevenly and let the breath out in a rush, his thumbs hooked on the waist band of his boxers, Cary felt like he should really be looking away. If only he could. His vision seemed locked on the pale skin revealed as Joe stepped forward. Something deep and powerful settled across Cary's shoulders, shuddering under his skin like feet pounding the pavement. He felt like he couldn't breathe, like there was a lit fuse snaking under his skin and he had no idea where the bomb was. It was nerves and excitement and terror and joy in this head-spinning, heart-wheeling, cold-sweating rush of emotion. Cary had never been too sure what _love _would feel like. He'd never witnessed a functioning, healthy relationship in his life.

But when Joe swallowed, his form trembling as he slid into the water, Cary knew without a doubt in the world that _that _was what 'love' felt like. Standing nose to nose with the boy-rapidly-turning-into-a-man that was the reason he could dream without thinking of aliens and danger and white rooms where they promised faceless uniforms they'd never breathe a word. The reason he knew without a doubt that he was getting the hell out of Lillian, Ohio, and it didn't even matter where he went as long as he had Joe Lamb by his side. The still air shivered between their lips as they stood close together, heart beats synchronised in a flood of sharp, slow breaths, pounding with the intimate knowledge that there was nothing by cool water between them.

"I...I want...I want to..." Cary struggled, his words dusty and choked in his throat. Joe silently swallowed, his wide eyes catching the starlight and owning it as their own. Then, carefully, like Cary was made of glass, he reached out and cupped his jaw.

They'd done this once before; it had been an unsure, confusing, painful and completely humiliating experience for the both of them. They really didn't have any idea what they were doing and even though they'd done some clandestine investigations since, they hadn't tried again.

"Are you sure?" Joe murmured. Cary could feel his pulse racing in the palms against his cheeks. He smiled and leaned close, close enough to taste the other boy on his tongue as he spoke.

"I just admitted that I love you"

They kissed then, almost painfully slowly, almost too slow, but the blaze breaking apart behind the kiss made the contact burn brighter than any fireworks show. Joe wrapped his arms around Cary's shoulders, pulling him close and for the first time they felt one another fully naked against their bodies.

"_Jesus_" Cary whispered and pulled Joe back. They floated into deeper water, until they were dancing on their tiptoes, the fire between them burning still. When Cary's legs caught around Joe's hips, the hands of the sheriff's son dragging up the back of thighs, holding him steady, they carefully, hesitantly connected and both paused.

"People talk like we don't exist sometimes, Joe-" Cary whispered, a little choked and unsteady. Joe's arms tightened around his waist, his breath hot and erratic against Cary's wet skin.

"-Like we're something too wrong to talk about, to think about-"

He curled his fingers in Joe's dark hair and tugged his head back so he could look right into those incredibly blue eyes, reflecting the gleaming velvet sky curling above them protectively. Slowly, gently, Cary shifting his weight and Joe sucked in oxygen like he'd been punched. One hand still fisted in his hair and the other on his shoulder, Cary found rhythm staring into Joe's wonder-filled face.

"-It's like when _we_ do this, we're not making l-love-fuck-" his words stuttered and his body curled in a bit closer to Joe as white-hot pleasure cut into the bottom of his stomach. Joe's long fingers dragged down Cary's ribs until one hand settled on his hip and the other curled oh-so-fucking-torturously around the throbbing heat of him.

"-Jess-sus, Je-sus, Joe, Joe-God" the flood of words blurred into nonsense and Cary felt like he was talking too goddamn much, when Joe hadn't said a word.

"We'll prove 'em wrong, baby. We're proving them so fucking wrong" Joe hissed into Cary's throat and bit down on his collarbone. It was the cuss out of Joe's damn angel mouth that shot Cary over the edge and the exquisite tightening of him around Joe that yanked a cry from his lips.

Gasping, fulfilment smashed through them, detonating everything inside them, right down to the marrow. It could have been from the beginning of time to Armageddon, the blinding explosion of star fields, or it could have been just a heartbeat. Corkscrewing downwards in the wake of all-consuming ecstasy, the two of them clung almost painfully to one another. Joe hissed as he slid out of Cary, who bit down gently on Joe's shoulder at the strange, wrenching feeling that followed. For a while the two of them bobbed in the water, spent and sated and dizzy.

"I love you, Cary. So much it kinda makes me crazy sometimes" Joe said suddenly. His voice was still quivering. Cary laughed weakly and didn't open his eyes as he pressed his forehead to Joe's.

"I-" he kissed the crease between Joe's brows.

"-love-" he kissed his nose.

"-you-" he teased the corner of Joe's swollen lips, making him growl.

"-too" finally his lips found Joe's in the wet, cool darkness.


End file.
